


Post-Reichenbach

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-27
Updated: 2012-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The title of the chapter doesn't actually have anything to do with the story, I was just listening to the song by Azure Ray when wrote it</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

> The title of the chapter doesn't actually have anything to do with the story, I was just listening to the song by Azure Ray when wrote it

It was, to the day, three years since Sherlock Holmes walked of the roof of St Bart's. 

For John Watson; three years of pain and grief and misery; three years spent pushing everyone except Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade away. Even Mycroft checked in on him once in a while. Three years during which he had been the same person he was after returning from Afghanistan; the limp was back, he went to therapy, he tried to blog, but there was honestly nothing going on in his life that was worth blogging or writing about.  
Honestly, who would want to read of the misery of an ex-Army doctor who still believed Sherlock Holmes when everyone apart from Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft and himself found him a freak; a fraud?

Still, there were signs out there that others believed Sherlock as well. Posters coming up all over London which said "Moriarty was real" and "Richard Brooke was a fraud", graffiti in the exact same paint that was used in their second case which stated "I believe in Sherlock."  
He'd once seen a poster saying "Richard Brook was right" or something along those lines. But when he'd passed it the next day, it was gone, replaced with "Richard Brooke was a fraud."

He hadn't managed to keep his job for very long after it happened. He'd tried, but he was having severe moodswings which left him exhausted and unable to function properly.  
The moment he'd turned away from Sherlock's grave after pleading with him not to be dead, he'd resumed his previous role of a solider; straight walk, seeming not to care about what had happened.   
Except he did. Of course he did.

Sherlock was the man who'd rescued him. He had brought him into his wonderful life, full of exiting adventures. And John found he didn't care how much danger they were in. Okay, maybe that time where he'd had a bomb strapped to him; but at the same time he felt safe, safe because Sherlock was there, and he KNEW he wouldn't let him get hurt.  
Then it was the time where they had been drugged and John was inside that cage during the Hounds of Baskerville case, when Sherlock had used him to experiment; he easily forgave him of that too. As soon as he'd heard Sherlock's voice on the phone, he one again felt safe; felt that Sherlock would arrive in time to save him from the hound. 

He wasn't willing to admit it at first, but he needed the excitement and adventure Sherlock brought into his life.  
And when he did admit it, he found he didn't care.  
Because that was who he was; that was who Sherlock was; two pieces of a soul that needed to be together in order to thrive; to make it in this world.

His favorite memory of Sherlock was the time he'd said "I don't have friends. I only got one."   
Of course John was mad at him at the time, but when he'd said those words; he'd be ready to forgive him that instant. But he didn't, not aloud anyways. Because this was Sherlock; he needed to know not everything could be forgiven at once; not even if he uttered words that meant so much.

His worst memory of Sherlock Holmes was "The Fall".  
When he tried to lie to him; tried to convince him he was a fraud. He should have known John would know that was a lie; he'd always believed in Sherlock; he always would.   
When he'd left him his note.  
When he walked off the roof.  
When John saw his best friend in the world fall.  
When he was him dead on he ground, in a puddle of blood.

 

John Watson stood before Sherlock Holmes's grave.  
He'd sworn to himself over and over that he wouldn't cry.   
Sherlock wasn't one for emotions, and tears were the worst.   
But the tears would not listen; John Watson broke down anyways.

He sat by the grave for hours.   
He didn't speak. He didn't plead.  
He'd stopped crying; he just sat there.  
Rain started to fall; darkness fell.

A hand on his shoulder.  
A familiar voice.  
A voice that said "I'm sorry."   
A pause "I'm not dead."

John Watson turned around and looked up into the pale eyes of Sherlock Holmes.


	2. I Did it For You

Sherlock Holmes had never intended to hurt John Watson.

The consulting detective lacked social skills, and even though he'd lived all those months with his blogger, he hadn't managed to pick up enough to know what was right and what was wrong in those situations.

He did what he had to do in order to save his only friends.  
He had learned that when it came to Moriarty, one had to expect the unexpected. So as soon as he figured out he most likely only had one way out, in order to save himself and those he cared about, he started planning. He gained help from Molly which he had not expected. He knew though that without her, it would have been harder to get his plan to work; no one else trusted him.

Sherlock never wanted to hurt John. Because it was HIS John, his in every way apart from the love of lovers.   
They loved each other as brothers, as companions, true; but there would never be anything more than that. And it was fine; they did not care, because it is the best kind of love.   
When you have a friend like that, you ate truly blessed; to have someone willing to listen, someone who believes in you no matter what, someone who keeps coming back, who never leaves despite, or maybe because of indifferences.  
In short; someone who is a part of you, of your soul, someone who belonged to you and you belonged to, long before you met; your other half.

And it was because of this that Sherlock would not go back in time and do it different if he was given the opportunity. Because he knew he could not stand the thought of his blogger dead; not stand the thought of Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade gone from this world because of his selfishness. 

Sherlock Holmes might be called a number of things, and 99.82% of that might be true. But he would never let anyone call him selfish, not after this. When the world found out about his sacrifices, what he'd done in order to save his friends No, no one will ever call Sherlock Holmes, the world's only Consulting Detective selfish after this.  
A small part of him did it in order to save his reputation, to clear his own name, but he doesn't care about that. All he cares about is keeping those he cares about safe, in any way he can. And that's what he did; he saved them. For three years he kept them safe, kept them out of harm's way.  
And now he has deduced that it is long enough; now at last he will put them out of their misery.  
Well, Mrs. Hudson knows, so it's only John and Lestrade he has to tell.

Let them punch him, say they hate him, how much grief and trouble he's caused them; he will not care. He cares about them, and he will let them know that, whether or not they will believe his excuses, he cannot change that.

He hopes John will believe him though; he really does. Because John is the only one who matters. Sherlock looks at John where he sits by his fake grave, sits there in the dark, in the rain, grieving for his friend who's been lost to him for three years.  
The detective walks up to his blogger and lays a hand on that shoulder he knows so well.

And when John turns around and their eyes meet, he says the words he has longed to say "I did it for you"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of chapter taken from Broken Angel by Boyce Avenue

When John turns his head and sees Sherlock, he doesn't know what to do at first.

He doesn't know if he should believe him to believe or if he has finally gone complete bonkers after all those years.  
But the hand on his shoulder _feels_ real enough... Should he dare to believe?  
Should he dare to believe that his long lost friend is back? That he was alive all that time?  
John Watson's never been a believer of the supernatural, so that should by his normal standards make this very easy to decide. But his brain is foggy; it's not what it once used to be, so he does not know what to think.

At last, after what seems like hours, but in fact was mere seconds, his brain believes Sherlock to be real, to be _there_. And once his brain has decided that is the fact; so does his heart.  
And when John Watson's heart decides on something, there's no going back.  
Sherlock Holmes is real. He is alive and he is right there, behind John, his hand still on his shoulder; he looks just like the last time he saw him before he was on the roof.  
But that's just on the first glance. Because as John really _looks_ at Sherlock, he sees his not the same man as he was then.

Sherlock looks _broken_ , for a lack of a better description. And if John didn't know any better, he'd say that Sherlock was a broken angel. _His_ broken angel.  
John knows then that he will never forget that look and vows to himself that he will do everything he can to remove any trace of that from Sherlock.   
Because Sherlock is his flatmate, his colleague, his friend, his partner.  
He might not have been a complete angel before, far from it by any "normal" standards at least, but now he truly was a broken angel.

And that stalls John reaction. He did not know how to react before seeing that broken look, and he certainly does not know now; somehow he doesn't feel like punching him anymore. That's one reaction less to consider at least.   
So for now he just gets up and turns around so he can properly look at his best friend. He notices then that he's been back to his - their flat, because he's wearing that coat and scarf again.  
And John knows it's _that_ coat and _that_ scarf; he only has one of each. So they stand there, looking at one another, neither knowing what to do. 

Sherlock opens his mouth to speak again, but John stops him by holding up his hand. "I don't want any excuses, Sherlock," he states. "Not yet.   
"I do not yet want to know how you are alive, I just want to know.. why now? Three years to the day, why now?" While speaking, John turned away from Sherlock, not trusting his instincts which were screaming at him to break down and throw himself into the arms of his friend. 

"I..." Sherlock starts and clears his throat. "I must apologize, my good doctor, for waiting so long to come out of hiding. The reason I waited so long was of great importance; I had to deal with his hitmen, to ensure your safety for when I could finally return.   
"I have been back for a while, waiting for the right place and moment to return to you. I've watched you, John, for the last two weeks, three days, seven hours, forty-three minutes and fourteen seconds, and believe me when I say I have missed you since the moment I last saw you when I walked off the roof.   
"When I saw you again upon my return here, you cannot imagine how I longed to go to you at once. And as I am sure you know that it is not in my character to do so. I know I have hurt you John, and I beg of you your forgiveness.   
"Know that I never intended to hurt you in the slight, and believe me to be, my dear fellow, very sincerely yours."


End file.
